


Private Healing

by Kitannax



Series: Overwatch Fics [8]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Kinda Fluffy, Oral Sex, Reader Insert, Smut, Vaginal Sex, monster fucking, monster!reaper, porn without plot/plot what plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 15:52:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7367902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitannax/pseuds/Kitannax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Female) Reader notices Reaper is reverting to his demonic form; you coerce him into taking some of your life force, but of course it happens smuttily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Private Healing

Your eyes rove across his face, taking in the sight of the man he once was; striking cheekbones, caramel coloured skin, dark eyes, lips that give naturally to a slight pout. He can only hold it a moment longer; the cheekbones remain, but his skin fades to a light grey, eyes turning blood red, lips thinning out into a perpetual snarl, showing sharp fangs. To most, it would be a monstrous visage. 

To you, however, it was a familiar sight. Comforting, almost. You prefer his natural state, but it's kind of nice to see who he used to be every once in a while. Usually, he can hold that visage a lot longer, hold a reasonable body temperature. Even in his natural state, his fang-like teeth are usually hidden. The snarl is a sign of hunger. 

This, admittedly, does frighten you. It means he needs to kill - or injure - someone. Needs their life force to keep a human form rather than becoming a fully demonic presence. No wonder the old women in some of the cities you've traveled to with him have crossed themselves and mumbled about demons. They're not wrong. 

"Gabriel," you poke one of his sharp teeth, "you need to... You know." 

You can't really say 'eat', because you've seen him eat real food. He doesn't so much eat life forces as he absorbs them. He shrugs. 

"It's fine." His voice is far rougher, far more distant. You sigh. He really does need something, but you know he won't take any of your life force unless weakened or distracted. Thankfully, his demon side is so much more eager for sinful pleasures. 

You sigh, shrug, settle yourself comfortably down into his lap. He's still solid, thank god. His wraith form is entirely under control; you know he won't turn to shadows under your touch, which is comforting. He raises a dark eyebrow. 

"Comfortable?" 

You nod, shifting in his lap to brush your core subtly against the already forming bulge in his pants. You like this about his more monstrous side; he's easier to arouse, easier to coax lustful affection from. 

"Do you think you're being subtle?" One side of his terrifying mouth turns up into what you recognise as a smirk. "God knows what's broken in your head to find this attractive." 

You smirk back, grind yourself against him again. "You know I could always ask you the same thing." 

He snorts in amusement, claw-like nails toying with the zip of your shirt. 

"My," he drawls, "whatever could a demonic beast such as myself possibly want with such a pretty young human?" He lazily rolls his hips up, "especially one so willing to do whatever I ask." 

You have to bite back a giggle; you love his dark sense of humour, although you can't quite tell if he's playing around this time. 

Your thought trail is ended by a blur of movement; you can't tell if he's fast because of some undead ability, or because he was basically a super soldier before the incident. Either way, you end up naked - your clothes in shreds on the floor - on the soft, thick sheets of his bed.

The sheets, you know, are for your benefit only. He rarely feels heat or cold unless he's really stocked up on souls. Usually he sleeps under a thin blanket out of habit, but the thick sheets are for you - so that you don't freeze sleeping next to him. 

Such a considerate monster, your inner thoughts purr; in another blur and haze of smoke he has you pinned, a cold, solid hand holding your wrists firmly above your head as he kisses you insistently. The kiss is brief; he can only hold a human mouth for so long in the starved state he's in. He pulls away just as the fanged snarl returns, scarlet eyes blazing down at you. 

His claws rake lightly down your sides as he shifts between your thighs; you drag your lower lip between your teeth in anticipation of what's to come. On the few rare occasions that he shows his demonic side without being starved, he always does this. You have a sneaking suspicion that he just loves to see your reaction. 

Your head falls back against soft pillows - nobody can say he isn't considerate and good to you - eyes dropping closed. You know he doesn't like you watching, afraid it may ruin the moment or something. No matter. You've felt his tongue enough times to know the exact feel and general picture of it.

The tip of his tongue - rough and forked and unlike any human tongue you've ever seen (which makes sense considering he's not human) - takes a slow lick along your entire slit, up and down, agonisingly slowly. It had taken you forever to realise his tongue was forked. Not that you mind. If anything, it makes this lewd act even more delicious. 

Clawed fingers grip your waist, tightly but not painfully. His tongue lightly prods your folds apart, licking hungrily at the droplets of arousal clinging to your skin. His growl is one of approval as his tongue slips further inside you, the inhuman length allowing him access to places not even his fingers can usually reach. 

You grasp at the sheets, squirming insistently until he holds you still; he's far stronger than you, able to pin you there with ease, his tongue never ceasing in ministrations. The rough, forked tip of his tongue slides against your sweet spot, insistent and harsh until you scream his name, your release wet and hot and sweet on his tongue as he laps at you greedily. 

As sweet as you may taste to him, however, he needs more. He licks his lips, crawls up the bed to face you. The look on his face promises a rough, hard fuck, as long as you behave. The thick head of his cock, cool to the touch, throbbing and leaking pre cum, rubs insistently against your wet slit. You part your thighs wider, wrap one leg around his waist as he slowly slides into you. 

His thick, heavy cock stretches you deliciously as he growls low in his chest; taking it as a sign, you take hold of his free hand, placing it around your throat. 

"No," he growls, tearing his hand away. He knows, then, that you were planning to give up some of your own life force for him. 

"Please," you whisper, "I can't bear to see you starve..." 

His expression softens and he sighs, lowering his face to your throat. 

"Only a little," he concedes, rolling his hips slowly, setting a passionate, bruising pace. To distract from the pain that's to come, you muse. His pointed teeth are sharp enough to break the skin easily. He avoids your jugular, opting instead for the area close to your racing pulse. 

Anyone who saw the two of you might think him a vampire; in truth it was much more horrifying, for it was golden liquid that shone, not blood, that pooled from the slight wound. Whereas it would hurt usually, this time, it didn't. Combined with the feel of him inside you, his clawed fingers raking through your hair, brushing your nipples, holding you close... It was exquisite. 

The coldness of his lips returned to the usual softness; you knew that when he looked at you again, his skin would be the dark caramel colour again, his mouth returned to normal. He mumbles something that may be a thank you as he continues to thrust into you; taking life from you is intimate to him, too. 

You tighten around him, bury your fingers in soft, dark curls of hair as his head remains buried in your shoulder. When you find release again, you whisper his name lovingly. Monster he may be, but he's still a man, a man you suspect is hurting deep down inside. 

His fists clench into the sheets as he ruts into you, deep and hard and relentless, mindlessly in pursuit of his own swiftly approaching release. You should tell him to pull out, tell him to come in your mouth, on your stomach, but you don't. You let him groan and snarl and almost whimper as his cock throbs and twitches inside you as he cums in thick, heavy spurts, filling you. 

He mumbles something else - an apology, perhaps? - but you're too exhausted from multiple orgasms and his draining of your life force to ask questions.

He barely rolls off of you before he's asleep, one heavy arm - caramel, like you hoped - draped over you. Feeding from you makes him sleepy, and oddly affectionate. You theorise that perhaps it's because there's something resembling love between you, but you're not sure. 

Your eyes, heavy with sleep, drift closed, your mind filled with pictures of your body, round with his child, warm and safe and free from vengeance. A near impossibility, but your favourite dream of peace.


End file.
